Medicine is hard
by Phish Tacko
Summary: When Molly receives a late-night phone call from a worried-sounding John, she rushes over to Baker Street. What she finds is… interesting, to say the least. Craploads of fluff.


**Summary: NyQuil is hard. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or My Heart Will Go On. I do, however, have a bottle of NyQuil in my bathroom cabinet.**

**Note: Pre-Reichenbach. Could almost be considered Sherlolly if you squint. Sherlock might be a little OOC. Tons of adorable fluff.**

* * *

_You're here, there's nothing I fear, and I know that my heart will go on. We'll stay forever this way. You are safe in my heart and my heart will go on and on._

Molly was brought out of her slumber by the sound of Celine Dion's voice blaring from her mobile phone.

"What the hell...?" She rolled over and took her phone off her bedside table. "Who could be calling at this hour?"

_Caller ID: Sherlock Holmes_

"Oh. Of course." She sighed, pressed a button, and held her phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Molly?"

"John?" She furrowed her brows. Why would John have Sherlock's phone, and why would he be calling just before midnight on a Saturday night? "What's going on?"

"Sorry to wake you, but can you come over here?"

"Why?" Molly sat up and stuck her feet into her slippers. "What's wrong?"

"It's Sherlock."

_Of course._

"What's he done now?"

"Uh, well, you know that cold he's had all week? It's finally to the point where he's willing to take medication, and he's taken NyQuil for it."

"...And?"

"There's a slight chance that he miscalculated the dosage. He is currently hiding in his bathroom with a frying pan and he's having a bit of a meltdown. He's locked the door."

"JAWN! DON'T TELL THEM WHERE I AM!" Molly could hear Sherlock's muffled shouting.

"I'm trying to help you, you stupid git!" She could hear John sigh and grumble to himself. "Anyway, would you mind helping me out?"

"Oh, yeah. No problem. Give me a few minutes."

"Thanks very much. Just come right in when you get here."

Molly hung up the phone and grabbed a pair of thick socks out of a drawer. It was very cold outside and if she wanted to get to Baker Street fast, she would probably be doing a bit of running.

After about 20 minutes of running and dealing with the cabs, she arrived at 221B. As per John's instructions, she didn't bother knocking and let herself in. She ran up the stairs to their flat and was greeted by Dr Watson. He looked very tired and somewhat worried.

"He's in here." He led her down a corridor. "In the bathroom." He knocked on the door. "Sherlock?"

"Go away."

"Sherlock, it's a quarter past 12. You've been at this for an hour."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Bloody hell." John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't make me break the door down."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

"Here, let me try." Molly knocked on the door. "Sherlock? It's Molly. Open the door so we can get you back to bed."

"Nope."

"Come on. Please?"

"No!"

"Do you have any more ideas?" John asked.

"I do." Molly took a bobby pin out of her hair and knelt down. "I've had to pick the lock to my own flat a few times. This time shouldn't be much different." She stuck the pin into the lock and began to fidget with it. Within a minute, the lock unlatch and the door slowly swung open to reveal Sherlock Holmes, curled up in the fetal position inside the bathtub.

"Stay away from me." His voice was shaky and tense.

"Sherlock?" The pathologist stepped into the bathroom. "I'm not going to hurt you. You know that, right?" She inched toward him with one hand stretched out in front of her. "You took too much cold medicine and you're hallucinating."

"I'm not hallucinating." There was a sniffling noise.

"The overdose is effecting your senses. You're hallucinating, and it's making you paranoid." Molly knelt by the side of the tub and rested a hand on his back. "Look up. Look at me."

He hesitantly obeyed. She could see that his eyes were bloodshot and wet. His pupils were dilating and he wasn't blinking.

"See? It's just me. No need to be afraid." She took the frying pan out of his hand and set it down on the counter. "It's only me. Can you sit up?"

He didn't respond. He only stared past her at the ceiling.

"Come on. Up with you." Molly leaned over the edge of the tub, grasped the detective under his armpits, and hauled him up to a sitting position. He continued to stare up at the ceiling.

"Spiders."

Molly followed his gaze. She couldn't see anything.

"Sherlock, there's nothing there."

"Big hairy ones." Sherlock rubbed at his eyes. "They're everywhere." He pulled his knees up to his chest and held on tightly. "I'm safe in here."

"You are, huh?" Molly couldn't help but chuckle. He seemed so childlike and vulnerable like this.

"Maybe." His eyes widened and she could hear his breathing speed up. "Oh God."

"What's the matter?"

"Oh God." He laid back down and curled in on himself. "There's more."

"Sherlock." Molly hauled Sherlock back into a sitting position and stepped into the tub. "There are no spiders. Calm down."

"I can see them, they're everywhere!" He put his hands over his ears and began to rock back and forth.

"Sherlock!" Molly cupped his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. She could see tears running down his face. "Look at me. It's all right. It's just me. Molly Hooper. We are at 221B Baker Street. John is in the hallway, just outside the door. It's all right." She dried his face with her sleeve. "It's all right. There's no spiders. You're safe."

"No spiders..." He stared at her.

"Yes, no spiders." She took his hands away from his ears and let him pull his arms to his chest. "Here, lean on me."

"Will it help?"

"It might." Molly scooted closer to the detective and wrapped her arms around his torso. He laid his head down on her shoulder as she pulled him close. "There. Isn't that better?"

"Yes." His voice was muffled in her shoulder.

"Do you want to go back to bed or do you want me to stay here with you for awhile?"

"Stay. Please." He unfolded a bit and let himself relax against the pathologist. "It's safer in here."

"Okay. We can do that."

Ten or so minutes later, Sherlock was considerably calmer. He was still leaning on Molly, who still had her arms wrapped around him, and he would periodically mumble something that she couldn't decipher.

Molly, on the other hand, was savoring the moment. It was unlikely that Sherlock would ever allow her to touch him again. He had never liked being touched, at least by her, but for now, he allowed her to hold him and run her hand comfortingly up and down his arm.

"Sherlock?" She whispered after a few more minutes. "Are you ready to go back to bed?"

"Mmph." He sighed into her shoulder.

"Was that a yes or a no?"

"Mmph."

"I'll take that as a yes." She turned her head toward the door. "John. He's ready."

The door slowly swung open with a quiet creak and the doctor stepped in.

"Sherlock." John shook his flatmate gently. "Open your eyes."

The detective opened his eyes with a groan.

"I know you're comfy here, but we need to get you to bed. Can you stand up?"

"Meh." He closed his eyes.

"Come on, Sherlock. Up we go." John crouched down and reached around his flatmate. "Come on. Up." He tightened his grip and lifted Sherlock out of the tub with some difficulty.

"Too much NyQuil." Sherlock's head lolled forward and came to rest against the side of John's head.

"Yes, you've had too much." Molly opened the door that led into his bedroom. "That's why we're putting you to bed, so you can sleep it off."

"Good... That is good." He let his eyes close.

"Okay. Back to bed." John laid him down on the edge of the bed and helped him out of his dressing gown before helping him get underneath the covers.

"I guess I'll be going, then." Molly turned to leave but felt something grip the bottom of her pajama top. "Sherlock, I have to leave. It's very late."

"No..." His grip tightened.

"You can always stay here for the night." John said. "I think he wants you in here with him."

"Safe with Molly."

"Yes, Sherlock, you're safe with Molly." The doctor pulled the covers up over the detective and looked back at the pathologist. "What do you think?"

"If he wants me to stay with him, I'll be happy to." Molly climbed under the covers with Sherlock and he proceeded to snuggle up to her until his head was on her shoulder and one of his arms was draped over her stomach.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"Sure." She wrapped one arm around him and began to play with his hair.

"Anyway, I'll let you two sleep." John glanced at his watch. It was nearly 1 in the morning. "Good night." He exited the room.

"Night, John." Sherlock called after him. "Night, Molly."

Molly smiled.

"Good night, Sherlock."

* * *

At about 8 in the morning, Molly woke up to find that Sherlock was still curled up next to her, asleep. It didn't seem like he had moved much in the night, and for that, she was thankful. It meant that he had slept well, and that the NyQuil had not had any ill effects.

After lying there for a few more minutes, she decided that it was time for her to get up and leave him to rest. She untangled herself from the consulting detective, got out of bed, and walked out to the kitchen. John was already dressed and sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee and the newspaper.

"Good morning, Molly." He said without even looking up from his breakfast of toast, eggs, and bacon.

"Morning, John." Molly yawned and sat down.

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"I take it Sherlock's still asleep, then?"

"Mm-hmm." She pulled her hair back into a very messy bun and secured it with an elastic that had been around her wrist. "He'll probably sleep for most of the day. He didn't even twitch when I moved him."

"That's good."

The rest of breakfast was spent in a comfortable silence until Molly checked her watch.

"I need to get going." She stood up from the table and pushed her chair in. "Toby hasn't been fed since last night and he's probably shredded the paper towels by now. He does that when he notices I'm gone."

"That's all right." John got up from his chair and retrieved her coat. "Again, apologies for last night. I didn't think Sherlock would do that."

"It's all right." Molly put her coat and shoes on. "Accidents happen. I'm always happy to help."

"We appreciate it. I'll walk you downstairs."

"Thanks."

* * *

Sherlock woke up a little after noon. He was feeling better than he had last night, but he still felt strange.

"Strange indeed…" He glanced around. Something was different. "Someone's been here." He could see long brown hairs on his pillow and he could smell a hint of green apple.

_Green apple… Molly uses green apple shampoo… Molly has brown hair..._

He looked down at himself. There were a couple of long brown hairs on his shirt, as well a smattering of cat hair, most likely from a gray and white tabby cat.

_Molly has a cat._

"What happened last night?" Sherlock rubbed his eyes and yawned. He would have to ask John later. But for now… Sleep.

Yes. Sleep would be great.

* * *

**And so concludes my first published Sherlock fanfic. I hope I don't regret posting this, because it's 2:21 in the morning and my brain is fried.**


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